Robert Wyatt's "Cancion de Julieta": built on, travels on an uprightbass riff, which carefully adjusts itself, then tilts forward, like arocking horse that almost gets stuck on a surreal extention of a bent(fifth?) some blues note or I should say blu-u-ues note, groaning alittle, deliberately distended, before the last note, beforetherocking horse pilgrim tilts back into place. And Wyatt sings thesame melisma, much higher, like a little old man with a hole in hishead and the air pushing out and in, which is true of course, like alittle old man in a poem or a play, under the radar or trying to bethat way, in his mask (from Comicopera, and Wyatt explains he meansthat album's title in the oldest school sense, the other side oftragedy, but useful, a working piece of uniform), his parody, with thewell-timed well-pulled tear in his blues, giving just enough pause tothe listener (and even a sympathetic listener can stop listening ifthe music seems too familiar, like this track never does; I keeplistening to hear what happens next, even though I "basically" orschematically know, but it's the feeling of the listening experiencethat matters here, like it always should). Also, it's not just a masketc in the defensive sense, or defensive in the wait for 'em to comeat you sense; the little old rocking horse rider isn't just findingaway to keep his place, he's somehow pushing forward, each repetitionof the basic riff brings some other sounds too, which suggest he'sbreaking into something, pushing forward, into wreckage, the hull of agalleon maybe (kind of an underwater moonlit quality). The bass playeris also using his bow, and overdubbing violins, scrabbling at thepush, in the push. (Wyatt also plays some kind of keyboard,percussion, pocket trumpet, all in the arc and pull and push of thesway of the note). "Un mar de sue-eh-eh, no. Un mar de tierra blanca,"so not just aquatic and doesn't just sound aquatic, but like he'sentering the water, rocking back and forth and farward. Just anothersleepwalker? They can do a lot. Leading where all listeners might beled toward making their own connections, if they want, to any possibledeeper waters. Either way, the song will keep going (not too earnest,no time for that). It's just the damndest track, is all, first listenevery listen.Sort of with the same effect is Ultra Living's version of OrnetteColeman's "Skies of America." Composed for symphony orchestra, hereit's transcribed in 6/8 for three-part harmonies of guitars, thensaxes; bass and drums come to lead the way, eventually, maybe always.Nothing like any Prime Time track I've heard, although to playOrnette's themes you have to use his pitches, so to that extent soundslike him, but the guitars are fuller, more detailed in texture thanPrime Time, and more single-minded than Blood Ulmer's playing withOrnette, but they do have some of Blood's rattling, once they stickit in. The saxes have a hard-won fatalism that gets dirgey at onepoint, but keeps building poise without letting go of any blues, orgoing bravura on us (well not too much). Not just about paying thosedues and maintaining your gnarly cool though, because the bass anddrums, like the opening guitars, are gouging steps in the side ofsomething, a ravine, judging by the size and shape of echo.Engagement, and roughness and enlightment and skills choppingroughness, finding its own way forward, like Wyatt's song. (This oneis from an Anthology Recordings reissue of Ultra Living'sTransgression, first released in 2000.) Zigmat's "Turn Out," from their self-titled, self-released debut,also finds its own way forward, maybe toward the edge or center or farwall of another ravine. Female vocalist and new wave combo, but theyseem to have learned what Blondie once knew from 70s crossroad ofarena (call it metal emphasis, more than rhetoric) punk, disco andpre-disco girl drama—not "diva," she sounds plainer than that, not"girl group," not much overdubbed harmonies, she's alone. She'sblurting out her story, and I find it hard to keep up, but got somesense of it the first time that keeps me going with her, trying to puttogether something that's way too clear to her: starts out mutteringabout "couture," a chance to work, "a glimpse, a spark," she soundsavaricious for, "Another chance to start, another mistake," but atleast another, not just one more of the same. But the work she's got"cut cut cut cut turn it out, you know I wish I was cured, I wish Iwas cured! (Turn on turn on turn out.) You make me feel assured. (Turnon turn on turn out.)" Sounds like she's reading directions aloud onthe paren parts, in contrast to louder, earnest, desperate phrases."Assured," as pronounced here, is an implied play on "asheared," as in"cut," asssheared," she's a sheep for a pimp who's assuring her andturning her out like she turns out the couture? Is she whoring for theclothes? But she also is distressed that his parents and sibs arealarmed by her, and she speaks at times like he's her meat, or hersalvation, or both, another drug.The accent figures in too (class, andmusical associations, with Miami Freestyle as well as the above, soenough diva for that, skills-wise) Sort of A Place In The Sun, andshe's Latina cross-projection of poor-boy, disorientingly elevatedCinderfella Montgomery Clift, and his problematic factory girl? (Forsome out-of-his-depth/put-upon preppy pimp who's also running thefamily garment business?) She seems way more trouble than that,because maybe dangerous only to herself, or maybe not. But something'sgot to give, like something's got to get. These are songs in flight,but finding, gathering their own measures of resolution, ofconfrontation, while so much music runs in place, bumping against thepadding of pattern mining, in performance and listening: I know yourider, just get along now. These songs won't settle for that, andwon't let me wave them by either. Their game is "CATCH!" Don Allred

BEST REISSUES:
1. Various Artists: Schultze Gets the Blues: Original Soundtrack
(Normal/Filmkombinat import)
2. Arthur Alexander: Lonely Just Like Me: The Final Chapter (HackTone)(comments below)
3. Ananda Shanka: Ananda Shankar And His Music (Fallout)(comments below)
4. The Staple Singers: The 25th of December (Riverside)(comments below)
5. Various Artists: The Art of Field Recording Volume 1 (Dust-To-Digital)
MALE VOCALISTS:
1. Willie Nelson
2. Arthur Alexander
3. Gary Allan
FEMALE VOCALISTS:
1 Mavis Staples
2. Gretchen Lambert
3. Carrie Underwood
LIVE ACTS:
1. Willie Nelson
2. Michelle Shocked
3. Gretchen Lambert
BEST SONGWRITERS:
1. Jason Isbell
BEST DUO:
1. Drakkar Sauna
BEST GROUP:
1. Oakley Hall
2. The Sadies
3. Charlie Daniels Band
BEST NEW ACTS:
1. Speck Mountain
2. Sunny Sweeney
3. Fire On Fire (comments below)
Comments:
Honorable Mentions: Bobbie Nelson, AudioBiography (Justice); Johnny
Bush, Kashmere Gardens Mud (Icehouse); Charlie Daniels, Deuces (Koch);
Sadies, New Seasons (Yep Roc); Sunny Sweeney, Heartbreaker's Hall of
Fame (Big Machine); Various Artists, The Sandinista! Project
(Megaforce); Various Artists, Silver Monk Time: A Tribute to the Monks
(Play Loud!); Billie Holiday, Rare & Live Recordings: 1934-1959
(ESP-DISK) (comments on most of these follow)
Pisser: Ashley Monroe's Sony debut album, Satisfied, sent back for
fine-tuning, still unreleased, what, two years after the first or
perhaps last sessions? And somebody fumbled with her singles-- but
hopefully she's gotten some money from co-writing Carrie Underwood's
single, "Flat on the Floor," and Kellie Pickler's album track, "I'm
On My Way." Plus, she reports on her Myspace page that she's recently
written with or for Miranda Lambert, and indeed, "I have been writing
almost every day!" So maybe she'll be the next Matraca Berg or
Bobby/Bobbie Braddock, even if she doesn't get a chance to see how far
Satisfied's ghostown stalker-waif /diarist next door/grievous
hitchhiker-angel in the back of "Hank's Cadillac"might get, with an
officially issued ticket. ( Her good, if somewhat [appropriately]
subdued/abashed demo version of "I Can't Get Past You" is featured on
the Myspace page of her publisher, Wrensongs).
New Hope Partlow tracks, credited to the Love Willows, can be heard on
the Love Willows' MySpace page: unmastered excerpts, so far, and maybe
a little too buttery with the New Wave settings, but Hope's moody
pop-country lasso is sailing again (full-length songs from her '05
debut are on her own solo MySpace.) Thanks for Frank Kogan for the
tip.
Fire On Fire are added, with reservations, to this year's kiss-o-death
Best New. As with Oakley Hall, several members have disembarked from
heavier, freakier, rocker bands, and also like Oakley Hall, they have
a real and still sufficiently electric feel for deep hills of
ensemble, reverberant chamber psych-folk ballads. Unlike Oakly Hall,
they even have a sense of humor.A guy advises, "You've just got to
have someone, lay the right and pull the way…even the hangman has
friends. (female voice affirms, "oooo, lalala"-she might be interested
in being a friend). But several tracks on their self-titled EP have
really overloaded lyrics. Still, when Colleen Kinsella sings
lead,especially here and on their YouTube shots (oh man, wish I'd made
that wedding), all is groovy, as the sparks flie upward, and here's
hoping for their debut album, coming this spring, apparently.
A lot of no-show promos from Nashville this year, but it's all right,
I've just gone a little further afield than usual. For instance, The
Sandinista! Project: produced by Jimmy Guterman, covers of the
entire 3-LP set on 2 CDs, by Jon Langford & Sally Timms, Katrina of
Katrina And The Waves, Wreckless Eric, Camper Van Beethoven, Amy
Rigby, Jason Ringenberg & Kristi Rose, Steve Wynn, Willie Nile, Mikey
Dread, Sid Griffith's Coal Porters, Ruby On The Vine (feauturing
Myrna Marcarian of Human Switchboard), and a lot of people I never
heard of, many of whom also do some startlingly good stuff, so it's
not just Indie Big/Heard Of Name Placebo Effect, I don't think
(Although some of the no-name people are a little too reverent to the
wordiness of the texts or slowness of The Clash's own performances,
so it's not just lower case no name placebo effect either.) Feeling stuck in the spotlight and the perfectly sealed over image of rebellion,The
Clash tried to break on through to the para-punk world, much of it in living color, but they did so with the limited skill sets of themselves and their tiny coterie, for whole teeming subcontinents of soundmasses, dub etc. The Project's bands wisely delve into one song each. But such rich material, and it's not just,. maybe not mainly the writing, but the groove too, implied and/or realized, to whatever degree: The Clash's version of post-punk goes past the bounds of the recent trend,
yet loops through the experiments of Wilco and The Mekons, back
through the studio-as-instrument stuff to the country and punk phases,
back to Englishmen who were kids in the 60s, and their take on
skiffle, ska, various New Orleans (incl urban cajun), and rural parade
beats, and yeah nascent hip-hop, dub; but where The Clash's vocals and
production could blur into an atmosphere too thin and thick at the
same time, and too tenuous, technically(at least on the original vinyl
and cheap speakers), other artists have picked up where they left off,
without surpassing the basic strengths of these songs, which are
mostly rejuvenated here, and fairly often in a countryoid way. Not
just in terms of energy, or different drugs, but the Clashian
combination of stylistic elements, with transitions in and between
tracks, and the way the album loops back to pick up an earlier
approach, and develop it further (true in the original, but this trib
makes it clearer to me), and their characteristic combination of
seriousness and humor, linear development and dubwise ricochet,
kinetic mass and leaves of grass, as honored here in spirit and
appropriate adaptation, makes them sound at least as right and ripe
for the Double 0s as for the 80s. (Maybe not if this album had come
out in the 90s, which seemed like Austin Powers' preferred memory of
the 60s, at least for lucky millions; sucked to be other billions, but
there you go-go.) Example of how one track builds on another: was
thinking I'd like to hear more of that bluesy fiddle bouncing along
under Jon Langford and Sally Timms's "Junco Partner." Which is a much
better track, all the way through, than the perky-on-cue rhythm, I
mean "riddim" mocking Strummer's dry, take-it-or-leave-it emphasis got
to be (too conceptual, after more than a few minutes, it seems; we get
it already). But in a much quicker already, I'm wanting more from
Langford and Timms, cos this new version is so good, that they've
shown me could be even better.(After writing this, I realized that
the point is in the degree of restraint: the sly old partner knows
he'll never get out of his street beat alive). But then the very next
track does bring out the fiddle's blues and fun more, as Jason
Ringenberg and Kristi Rose get a lot more subtle than they usually do,
by winding with the fiddle, through the long lines of "When Ivan Meets
G.I. Joe," way after the pinball machines have been shut down, no
attempt to improveon 80s sound EFX here, just ease us through the
shadows, til we reach the international tough guy stuff , on passing
posters and screens, and start another turn. (This really seems like
the centerpiece of the whole Project, speaking of those time/style
loops, even though it's only Track 4.) Wreckless Eric's "Crooked
Beat" combines modern technology and 25 years of practice for inspired
woodshed electronics (which sound Orwellian in Bee Maidens' "Mensforth
Hill", like what's probing Winston and Julia's love nest, back in
1984, but also turns out to be the old man's story from "Something
About England," just recognizable as it [life and history] disappear
backwards over said hill, sucked in like spaghetti, or like gristle
between teeth, all of which is country enough for me.) The Lothars'
name might come from 60s' group Lothar And The Hand People, in which
Lothar was a theramin, because a whole patrol of are we not theramin
keep patrolling "The Call Up, " which is a bit like Devo's version of
"Workin' In A Coal Mine" and Neil Young's Trans, but eerier (and more
foregone, far-gone rural-industrial) than either. Speaking of
versions, Tim Krekel's "Version City" is the post-alt.country
mainstream-accessible triumph, pop train song with doppler shift
horns, like Mr. Krekel, an expert Kentucky-to-Music Row commuter,
probably is familiar with (being, for inst, leader of the Octaves octet,
sensibility neighbors of the nascent NRBQ, back when they all started
in Louisville), and fans of Tim McGraw's rusty-vocodered
"Fly Away" really really should hear it too. Sally Timms & Jon
Langford return with "Version Pardner," which seems like mostly
acoustic dub, until tape Sallys sally back again, and one of her has
one hand waving free ("He-e-ey," even if she's still falling forward
and around with that ol' Partner man again).And that's just one more
upside down moment folded into a bouquet of dub, which is still just
trying to take country's ID crisis on a seismic cruise, oowee baby.
(Meanwhile, over on Silver Monk Time: A Tribute To The Monks, certain
mid-60s, ex-G.I., U.S. Midwest-to-Germania boneyard sparks get lured
and railroad-guitarneck-jerked through "Monk Chant" and 'round the
mountain by the Raincoats, as 5.6.7.8. spins "Cuckoo" into the peak
and on its beak.)
Neither of those albums sustains (or tries for) a country-related feel
(remember, can't get too conceptual) all the way through, that's why
they're Honorable Mentions. (Pt. 2 follows)(scroll down this page:https://thefreelancementalists.blogspot.com/search?q=Billie+Holiday%27s)

Don Allred's Country 07 Comments Pt. 2Ditto Billie Holiday's Rare & Live Recordings 1934-1959, clipped froma thousand tapes, smokey and succinct, expressive and reticent,brooding and shiny, romantic and austere, waiting for the rightconnection, like the shadow of an old car, passing over whatevercondition the country road's in: however far the rest of the car mayor did make it, the shadow's still passing, still waiting. (And I'mstill listening: three discs in, several hours of my life, years ofhers, and she still doesn't sound mannered or wasted.)But today I'm in the diner, finally getting what I'm always beingserved, which is the nasality-as-gentle-astringency (previouslyperceived as "an industrial-strength solvent"), theeverywhere-at-once, yet tastefully compressed hardshell hardsell: thetirelessly, carefully flattened, signature hills of Sugarland. Today,it's a little closer to home, like tabasco on a spud, which is home onthe range, the range of everyday, homely extremes. Can't remember thename of the song, which is one of the ways I know I'm in Sugarland,served up just right, by the shining morning face of Jennifer Nettles,although that smiling busboy's hat has something to do with it too,and today I'm glad to see them both.Jason Isbell sounds to me like the offspring of Warren Zevon andEudora Welty, with both folks' appetite for words, beats, detail,atmosphere, and hooks. But minus Warren's lapses into"Carmelita"-style tearjerking, and plus a sense of justice for hischaracters, of empathy, sympathy, distance (the last needed forperspective, and for room to move on, to the next item on the docket,and the menu). And nobody can find all that in his genes, oranybody's. Possibly doomed in part by heredity (cursed with tenacity, vitalityor at least endurance, under no matter how much stress), BettyeLaVette's character on Scene of The Crime uses all the artist's ownpost-nuclear cockroach tendencies (re improbable return to record binsthe past few years, and not even posthumously). She is one half of theold school Thing That Will Not Die, one of those couples, probablypreserved in alcohol, who draw the world into their drama, for all theworld's the dark end of the street, and we are just players, so getyour helmet, for they're in LOVE. Except that she's not tooself-absorbed, or just enough, to be scared, when she sees what she'sabout to do in another round of "Jealousy." Yet terror's just part ofanother Happy Hour, like that laugh, that cough, that drunken listenershe's accosting, in "Old Talking Soldiers, " an Elton John song shesomewhat asymetrically transforms, typically enough. Ol' Doom makingthe rounds, and the other shapes, stirring the pile: that's country;creativity stirring the stirrer, that's country too (okay, art countrytoo, but tell it to John Cassavetes and Gena Rowlands, and get anotherbar breath nebula from Bettye, with Spooner Oldham on the pianoforte,Drive-By Truckers picking up).(Pt. 3 follows)

Don Allred's Country 07 Comments Pt. 3Arthur Alexander's Lonely Just Like Me: The Final Chapter features his'60s Muscle Shoals/Memphis studio-rat compadres like Dan Penn, DonnieFritts, Reggie Young, and later A-list Nashville Cats like GaryNicholson. It's an aptly expanded reissue of his '93 comeback/farewellalbum (he died soon after). According to the new notes included,nobody had any idea how sick he was, certainly no evidence of it here,unless you count the sometimes almost mystical way he contains pain(not just of romance, turns out), but that's never far from the chillof his lucidity, meeting the neon shadows of his rolling country blueslatin rock r&b vitality, that thing that(Sam Cooke and Doc Pomus and Leiber & Stoller and early Charlie Prideand Stoney Edwards and )Arthur passed along to some who covered hissongs, like Elvis, and the early Beatles, early Stones (Arthur's verylive versions of "Anna" and "You Better Move On,"recorded by theBeatles and Stones, respectively, are among the bonus tracks) The SirDouglas Quintet, mid-60s Dylan, Johnny Rivers,also in shared some ofthis sensibility(and even Neil Diamond: turns out Arthur's cover ofNeil's "Solitary Man" fits perfectly with his own songs, especiallythe poise of the verses times the micro outburst of the bridge)but theunself conscious ethnic inclusiveness of this meld ( of musicalconnections already there for the making, of course) seems the morestartling when I read that the beaches in L.A., for inst, weren'tintegrated til '63, even aside from the South (or South Boston, wherethere were riots vs integration in the mid 70s) For whatever reason,though younger artists have tried, this musical crossover sensibiltywas most convincing back then (seems like Bill Withers, GarlandJeffrys, Bob Marley were the youngest to really represent and play itforward). Arthur's idiosyncratic yet effortless way of stretching somesyllables to make them fit the groove, then suddenly almost stopping,he's so intently flattening another word, but it fits too: that's likeWillie Nelson and Dylan too, but especially '50s/'60s Nelson's gothytonk conversations, with the reasonable way a guy in a bar mightsuddenly introduce startling information and then leave you to fill inthe gaps, as he sways on towards the swinging doors (who was thatmasked man?) The sway's just a bit toward menace, as he, "just abrother from Arkansas," politely informs "Mr. John" that the brother'sfallen comrade didn't die with a grudge against the man who forbadehim to put a ring on the finger of "his baby" (The speaker ispersistant about wanting to see said "baby," referred to as hisfriend's baby and Mr. John's baby, before he moves on)(I guess he'sleaving, but his tone makes me wonder where he's going and where he'sbeen, were he and his friend in some warfare that was sanctioned, andif so by whom). Also, speaking of rings, he nobly declares that "Anna"must go to the one she now loves, just as soon as she gives him backthe ring. (And he knows if she really wants to go, she's already gone.He's sad, but he knows. So: she should listen and feel bad, then therock, please, and then adios).Even more from Rejected Pitches:Michelle Shocked's ToHeavenURide is a live set from Telluride, andshe didn't know it was being recorded, so maybe that's why it seems soun-self-consciously stageworthy, so glidingly tensile (like theStaples with the Hi Rhythm Section, but it's just Michelle and churchfriends from L.A.). So enjoying the open air, without spacing on thealtitude. She and the other singers are a call-and-response communitythat draws the audience in, to add more call and response, though notto hadda-be-there extent; just occasional deft commentary and commentsand wisecracks, but noever sermons or tirades, or over-extended music(Michelle knows she's no virtuoso, doesn't push her luck. Material'snot too familiar: Sister Rosetta Thorpe's "Strange Things Happening"investigates everyday mysteries, applying twang as a ready instrumentand test, which fits with a re-worked "The Weight," as easefully,miraculously non-anthemy as most Endless Highway: The Music of theBand, but here there are also re-castings of "Wade In The Water," and"Uncloudy Day," speaking of Staples Singers. Good tension and release,in boom-boom and humor and other stuff, and might be a true sequel toThe Texas Campfire Tapes ; maybe all her albums should be live,instead of the complicated studio projects.12/07: Caroline Kennedy's new Christmas book includes a responsefrom JFK, to a letter from a little girl (hopefully also included inCaroline's collection). She's worried about Santa getting nuked overthe DEW Line, apparently. JFK: "I just spoke to Santa, he's fine!(Quoted by Barry Goldwater, during Cuban Missile Crisis: "So you wantthis fucking job.") Ho-Ho-Ho, 1962 was a fine time to be a child, tobe anything! Like the hovering tremolo of Roebuck Staples' guitar,of his, Mavis's, Yvonne's, and Pervis's blues gospel harmonies, withspare usage of Maceo Woods' organ and Al Duncan's drums, on the StapleSingers' re-issued The 25th Day of December. A moment of respite,surveying what they're in the midst of : foreboding, knowing and somejoy; the pleasures of warmth in winter, and the clarity of its light,even under solid cloud, where you'll also so behold the slowest,spookiest, most savored-by-Mavis "Go Tell It On The Mountain" ever.Get it while you can, though good to know they'd be around for quite awhile ( and Mavis had a Ry Cooder-produced set in '07; haven't heardit, stupidly enough, but reliable sources say "Yay!") Their musicwould take some creative and hit-making turns, too, but right now,this is right, in a solstice way. Several p.domain songs I hadn'theard, arr. by Roebuck Staples, who also carefully adjusts "SilentNight" and "O Little Town Of Bethlehem," Thomas Dorsey's "The SaviorIs Mine," and R.Staples/W. Washburn's "There Was A Star." (Pt. 6follows)

Don Allred's Country 07 Comments Pt. 4Go way into town, but only to where the streetlights haven't been shot out yet,and in the nimbi of yon streetlights, amidst the mists, behold Miz PamTillis, with her big, dark green eyes, her long, dark brown hair, hersmall, calm, brave face (cute not zombie, yet almost totallyre-constructed after a wild child car crash at 16, as she'll tellyou).On Rhinestoned, her A-list Nashville Cats provide the perfectsettings for lush, overcast, ruefully lucid musings, not toochairbound, either: "Life has Sure Changed Us Around" is a chance (?)encounter with John Anderson on the sidewalk, musical traffic goingabout its business (oh baby), as they get het up and cautiously checkeach other out, while referring to days and nights when they were muchyounger, much less responsible (or with much fewer responsibilities).Followed immediately by "Someone Somewhere Tonight," as she suddenlysits up, all too awake, and sees very far in the dark (whoever she'stalking to is probably sleeping like a baby on the next pillow, andnot like it's a ballad of bravura pathos to wake his ass up, she knowsbetter than to believe in such). But it's my idea of what a popcountry hit album should sound like, one idea anyway, aothoughultimately she's maybe too much the victim; should turn the tablesand/or have more ambiguity, ambivalence at times (though there is onewhere she's mentally explaining to a guy that she's always been theone left behind, and now she doesn't seem that thrilled to find outhe's apparently not leaving; doesn't fit her expectations/plans). Andthere are a lot of good variations on familiar themes, like a waitresstelling 'bout how she learned not to trust her car or her heart to acertain someone, certain kind of anyone. Another goodshould-be-more-popular pop country (with soap opry, somewhut proggy,[but only like the early solo albums of Scott Walker, if he'd stayedin the States] cowboy) album is that by Protest Hill, but don't get mestarted, just check the link in Top Ten above, to review andsong-stream, please!Past the possibilties of that "Band In The Window" Pam's intrigued by,and those "Matches" behind the mirror Protest Hill's looking for(well, in something that opens uplike a rusty little medicine cabinet,the kind with old snapshots curled up behind the bottles with thefaded-to-invisible prescription labels), the cowboy-slash-farmer findsa nice hallway, where Bobbie Nelson's AudioBiography rolls solo pianoevery evening, with guest appearences by Willie's vocal and guitar,with Jody Payne, second guitar on the first and last tracks. She doesa standard ballad ("Crazy," "Stardust," etc) then a boogie-woogie (orrelated), but for the most part, it's the ballads that really get me("Stardust"!), because of the way her momentum and lyricism reinforceand build on each other. So she doesn't really need the up-tempostuff, but it's good too (keep the customers moving right throughSilver Ceety), and "Down Yonder" is certainly as much of a trip as I'dalways hoped, after reading Tosches and vainly searching for aplayable record of it by Jerry Lee's earthly inspiration, Del Wood(hey Mr. T., I'd even settle for that "Psychedelic Mockingbird" ofhers you seem to warn us of).Johnny Bush's Kashmere Gardens Mud: A Tribute To Houston's CountrySoul is just like it's billed: the poignantly straightforward titletrack, memoir of a house that was bleak enough even before Mama leftDaddy (and the kids? He doesn't say—a kid who thought it was his faultfor the split?) is followed by several honky tonkers who gain by"Kashmere Garden Mud" 's implied contextualization (can see that it'sthe son or jilted husband, or maybe the runaway wife or her intended,further down the line, who might be tossing down another, whiletossing off, "So I'll sail my ship alone, and if it goes wrong, I'llblame it all on you.") But there's a tendency to old-schoolenunciation and evenness of tone and cadence, to a formalism, whichcan overtake the earned stoicism and poise. Despite and in partbecause of his careful baritone (and the fact it is a baritone, sogravitas sometimes seems like gravity, with no rainbows in any usefulplace). Especially when applied to a museum jukebox full of chesnuts.So yeah, A Tribute to Houston's Country Soul (including big bandblues, which he rides very correctly, tall in the saddle). And WillieNelson steals the show on "Send Me The Pillow," but Johnny's somehow alittle more evenly matched with the pre-Willie-quirky Floyd Tillman on"They Took The Stars Out Of Heaven," and both tracks are def keepers.Even more somehow 'bout it, Johnny and Willie's verson of "Pancho AndLefty" gets me much more focussed on that song than the Willie'sprevious hit take. Willie times Merle times Townes times Pancho timesWillie times Federales times Cleveland = too much charisma in onetrack for plain ol' me. But Johnny's journeyman equivalent of this"transparent prose" some speak of thins the atmospherics just enoughto clear my ears. And certainly the musicians (like Buddy Emmons onsteel guitar) do their bit: dig that jaunty stagger-step on "I'll SailMy Ship Alone." And actually, the song-choices aren't all familiar,but they're all apt: "I Want A Drink Of That Water" ("that He turnedinto wine") syncretizes the Saturday night and Sunday morning themes(not that the latter isn't usually closer to gentle regret thanoutright repentance). Welcome in, it's one heck of a museum to sail,at least (and Mr. Bush makes sure you won't have to sail it alone).(Pt. 5, the last part, follows)

Don Allred's Country 07 Comments pt. 5At my aunt's memorial service, the program included anAfrican-American-sounding hymn (ca. late 18th, mid-19th Centurytranscription? Or later, probably, transcription-wise), "Come Away ToThe Skies": "Come away to the skies, my beloved arise, and rejoice inthe day thou was born." Piano, vocals, slight trills, suggestingwings. "Wast"? Never heard that, or any of this song before; amazing(and graceful). She was once referrfed to as "the Dolly Parton ofclassical and Baptist music." Meant as a compliment, and rightfullyso. Recalled the pastor, who also has a bluegrass band," She playedforte. A member complained, and she asked what she should do. Ah toldher, 'Play louder.' "The Charlie Daniels Band's Deuces is Charlie's duets album, with hisstalwarts serving here as first-class bar band, hoisting a set ofcovers and re-hashed personal chesnuts. No Z Z Top numbers, much lessguest shots, alas (see CDB's Tailgate Party for the former, and othergood cover versions)(for a contrast/compare session with Z Z and CDB's POVs, please see my "Sharp Blessed Men" archived at villagevoice.com) But "Jackson," with cool-wailin' GretchenWilson, has a sleek stomp and kick, somewhut a la Z Z. Descendingporch bass notes are greeted by wristwatch-tapping rhythm guitar, in"Signed Sealed Delivered I'm Yours," with Bonnie Bramlett. Even thelesser tracks are rattled along by the characteristically, expertlyharnessed speediness, which sometimes gets looser and surfaces asanxiety in his manifestos. But on this album, "Let It Be Me" (withBrenda Lee) is more poignant for its briskness, its flexing: thefemale duet partners, especially, know how to soothe him (and the old,familiar songs) just enough, to bring out the brio over thebrittleness. Without undue earnestness getting in the way---like VinceGill does on "The Night The Drove Old Dixie Down." (Contrast with theAllman Brothers Band's version on Endless Highway: they don't allowthemselves to solo much, much less over-emote—Gregg doesn't evengroan! But he's appropriately unhappy.) The Scruggs brothers whinetheir way through "Maggie's Farm"; they should please shut up andpick, like Daddy Earl does. Still, Charlie and Darius Rucker have afine time zinging the hapless, right through "Like A Rolling Stone,"like Perez Hilton and Michael Musto with better material. The joke'son Charlie in "Evangeline" ("I hear your laughter in the rain"), wherehe's ably assisted by the Del McCoury Band (haven't yet determinedwhether CDB also plays on the tracks featuring guest instrumentalchunks), and Del himself sounds swell, in homage to Elmer Fudd (asupporting role, and he's fine with it, as always; suits him betterthan solo spotlights). "What'd I Say" is filigreed with the curlyburly slightly furtive sub-Ray intonation of Travis Tritt's trivia;"Daddy's Old Fiddle" doesn't have enough of Charlie's old fiddle orDolly Parton's old schtick (she's expressing interest like apolitician on an off day); "Long Haired Country Boy" is best of thesuperfluous, with Brooks & Dunn clapping along and staying out of theway of the song's long-lidded, don't-tread-on-me undercurrent. Charliedon't "take a toke" here no more, but the line about the TV preacherstays, despite his own return to the fold, and it foreshadows theadvent of "God Save Us From Religion," with Charlie's fellow deacon,Marty Stuart. The title is the sumna of a "barroom philosopher,"who's mainly building a castle of bottle caps, but Charlie and Martyare surely with him. Charlie and Montgomery Gentry are all big,high-strung, hit-the-note guys together on "Drinkin' My Baby Goodbye,"and finally, we get an actual instrumental, "Jammin' For Stevie," withCharlie and Brad Paisley trading well-considered, enterprising guitarstunts, proving that Southern Rock can still be more than a museum.Nice vapor trails and aftervibes to end the album on a peak; asPaisley would say, it (and at least 60 %of the CD) is "time wellwasted," to say the least. (I'm under-rating a little, in honor of Charlie'scurrently evident allegiance to "Always leave 'em wanting more.")PS: listening to a song on the radio: haven't quite yet got who'sdoing what to whom, but it's a quietly shapely tune, passing throughstoned beauty, way under the saucer, under the formica tabletop, inthe slightly blurred, burred chorus, the soothing monotony, and PaulNewman's just met Piper Laurie, they're sitting in a booth in a bar inthe gray daylight, and he's watching her talk just a little toocarefully, as she gets wasted (he's trained to watch people, no matterwhat). Although she's dedicated to getting her courage up, stoned songbaby's been there done there. ("Morphine" something, by Gillian Welchand David Rawlings, on a live broadcast; they're always better live,breathing better, reaching, finding an audience in front of them, andsomething else I can't see, can Paul? Does it and how does it matter,considering what will happen? It makes some kind of difference,differences, to the audience, while the scene continues, and sometimesafter the show's over)(ebba debba th-th-th-that's all foldkz!)